Shedding Skin
by MsDeacs
Summary: Sansa/Alayne has decided to play the game and her first move is Petyr Baelish/Littlefinger. One shot/smut.


He had offered her Winterfell. He had offered her back her home. He had offered it to her as if it were an easy thing to do and all she needed to do was say yes.

She hovered outside his door a little longer.

Did she truly believe that he could take back the North?

_Yes._

Still she made no move to open the door. She was aware of every step that she took, every decision she made. This was a game to Littlefinger, after all.

Alayne was just another piece to Littlefinger, just another person to strategically move across the board. But Alayne wasn't her true name. She was Sansa and and she was a wolf and this was a game she could win.

She could be a player too.

"Gods forgive me..." She whispered and she opened the door.

Littlefinger stood at the far end of the room, bent down over a piece of paper, the candlelight casting shadows over his face. He looked up and smiled when she came in.

"Ah, Alayne. I was just thinking about you." He motioned to the paper. "Your wedding to Henry the Heir has caused quite the scandal you know. No matter, it will go ahead just fine." He crumpled the paper up into a ball on the table and turned to face her.

"What brings you to your father at this time of the evening?" He asked.

Sansa drew herself up. _I must be brave. Like Robb._

"I have been thinking of all that you offered me." She said as confidently as she could.

He raised an eyebrow.

_"_And I want it all. I want Queen Cersei's head on a gleaming spike, I want to be back at Winterfell where I belong and all the while I want you to be by my side."

Littlefinger's eyes gleamed in the dark. "Of course Alayne, you shall have your father by your side."

Sansa felt her heart slam against her chest. _This is it. _She thought, _this is the moment. _

"You misunderstand me Lord Baelish." She said quietly, reaching to undo the laces on the front of her gown. "I do not want Alayne's father by her side, I want Lord Baelish by Sansa's side."

Her clothes dropped to the floor and there she stood, she kept her eyes fixed on Littlefinger's face. She watched as his eyes roamed her body, his eyes glinting in the dark.

She wondered then -briefly- if this was such a good idea. Should she so freely trade in everything that made her valuable in the eyes of men, should she pay such a large price and pin all of her hopes on Littlefinger? But then he stepped closer and she saw the way his face had darkened and she knew that she had made the right choice. Here was a man who got what he wanted, whatever the cost.

"Are you certain that this is what you want, sweetling?"

She nodded, "More than anything." She said.

His eyes widened and he stepped closer, her naked body was now only inches from his. She tried to calm her breathing but couldn't.

"You know that whatever happens next can not be undone?"

She nodded again. Words seemed to have left her and all she could feel was the thrumming of her own body and Lord Baelish's warm breath on her face.

"Okay then..." He murmured, and with that final step their bodies were touching. Littlefinger placed one hand behind her head and tugged her head ever-so slightly back and then he kissed her.

It was unlike their first kiss in the snow, this kiss was full of heat and urgency, Sansa was surprised with just how quickly she returned his fervor. Her heart beat louder as his other hand wandered down her back, caressing her bare skin...she let out an involuntary moan.

"Lord Baelish..."

"Please," He whispered, pressing two fingers inside her, "Call me Petyr."

Sansa lay awake that night long after Littlefinger had fallen alseep. She was a woman now, she knew, but she felt no different. She looked at the sleeping man beside her. and knew that she did not regret her decision. Petyr Baelish was a complex man with many layers, that night she had uncovered but one of them. She knew that a part of her, a small part of her, cared for him but she still did not truly know if she could trust him.

She crept out of bed and made her way to the table and as silently as she could she unfolded the letter that he had been reading earlier -because ultimately it didn't matter that she didn't trust Littlefinger. What truly mattered was that he couldn't trust her either.


End file.
